


other side of light

by firefliesburningmeup



Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drinking, M/M, dont need to know star trek to read this, its just boyfriends but in space, sort of hinted polyamory between 4vixx
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:13:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29446845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefliesburningmeup/pseuds/firefliesburningmeup
Summary: Hongbin didn't have any problems with space. He had lived most of his life in outer space, with little care for the law. He just didn't think he'd end up stuck in a space station for community service, months and light years away from Hakyeon.Or: Hongbin tries to forget his (ex-?)boyfriend while stuck in a starbase and ends up making a few friends, breaking one (1) bottle of kanar, two (2) glasses, and learns out how to stop pining.
Relationships: Cha Hakyeon | N/Lee Hongbin
Comments: 5
Kudos: 8
Collections: Intoxicating - Valentine's round





	1. chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hellooo and happy valentines day vixxers
> 
> i really didnt expect this to get as long as it did? i had originally aimed for 5k and figured id hit 3 or 4k but here we are i guess. a true labor of love, both to vixx and star trek. my song was [a star is falling by giriboy](https://open.spotify.com/track/0GBC7xNTLl6d0I3RGSdf0V?si=1UMEqW5dSGOXkJ65fvhOmg) and that song and, the whole album its in, really inspired me. id recommend listening to either the song or the album before or as you read.
> 
> on the star trek stuff, i tried to make this understandable for everyone! hopefully the fic is clear but here are some notes to help. if you're interested or into star trek or their backgrounds i ended up posting a more indepth explanation + my headcanons [here](https://reblogmodus.tumblr.com/post/643264759099260928/meras-vixx-star-trek-au) (though I'm not sure I'd recommend reading the post before the story)  
> lol it was the original explainer but it got...so long y'all. so long.
> 
> this is generally set in a space station (or starbase) run by United Federation of Planets (or the Federation) and is essentially a more involved and less shitty UN (/USA?). Starfleet is basically the Federation's agency that gets stuff done- they’re military but they also do research (both hard and soft sciences), humanitarian work etc. this mostly translates to wacky adventures in space, which is cool. save wonshik, all of them are aliens but the aliens are basically just humans with a lil extra frill. for ease, im listing all that along with a picture of these characteristics! ive changed neo’s first names to make them more similar to their species but thats all.
> 
> [link to imgur album with descriptions](https://imgur.com/a/GEFpSJq)  
> hakyeon: hak'yon, klingon/vulcan like worf but most of his forehead/pointy eyebrows is covered by his hair  
> taekwoon: taekuni, denobulan though his hair is long and styled like in scentist  
> jaehwan: romulan  
> wonshik: human  
> hongbin: bajoran + his earring  
> sanghyuk: joined trill
> 
> i also made a simple skin for a few sections here, but i think it should be readable even if you turn off the skin, so let me know if there are any major problems bcus this skin was fighting me nonstop.

Hongbin twirled around in the crappy chair he’s in. The Bajoran was stuck by himself with nothing but endless logs until Sanghyuk came to relieve him from duty. The little office was quiet- if he really stops, he can maybe here the distant rumbling of the engines that keep the starbase afloat. Even then he can barely hear it, a sharp contrast from the cramped ship Hongbin is used to where everything rattled, just a bit, and all its parts were a few years out of style. 

He continues doing his job, lethargically skimming the scanner’s logs, sighing as no name pings any bells. Of course not. He tips his head back, his earring chiming as he does. Hongbin feels his eyes start to throb after hours of this. 

Absentmindedly, he fiddles with the end of his d’ja pagh. The earring was still bright and silvery compared to his older one. It was similar in style to the d’ja pagh most Bajorans wore-an ear cuff connected by chain to the main earring, though these new toranium ones were a little less distinctively _Bajoran_. Fiddling with it had become a habit after he first got it, unused to the way the main earring was long enough to brush against his neck.

(Hak’yon had liked that, he knew. The other had reached out often to brush at Hongbin’s ear and rub at that tender spot behind it. Even when Hongbin squinted at him, annoyed, Hak’yon looked unrepentant. Stupid body and the way he melted everytime Hak’yon rubbed his neck just right.)

Right now, Hongbin’s meant to be checking the logs, relying on years as a sort of an engineer to keep an eye on nearby vessels. Truthfully though, anyone with a working set of eyes and basic knowledge of ship manifests could’ve done it. The Starbase Endaria was so deep in Federation space that no one would dare try anything, much less do it with their own name. If Hongbin fell asleep on the job, he’d just miss reading a few thousand more tourist ships. Prophets, he got caught sleeping once and the space station’s captain had just left him a blanket. Those Starfleet types tended to be too nice by half, and despite Captain Kim Wonshik’s somewhat stern appearance when Hongbin been shoved onto Starbase Endaria, the other man had surprised Hongbin by warming up to him so quickly. Apparently the human was all too used to all kinds of people on the starbase- whenever Hongbin caught a glimpse of him, he was always talking to someone, both civilian or not.

Hongbin was ready to hate it there, or at least avoid talking to anyone but the staff made it surprisingly difficult. They were good people. 

Not exactly nice- Yeoman Jaehwan was annoyingly cheerful and Lieutenant Han, cheerfully annoying and Commander Jung was just confusing. But they were funny, and all too often Hongbin found himself roped into Sanghyuk messing with the rest of the base in the name of what the Trill claimed was ‘curiosity’ whenever Taekun had cornered them with a put upon frown. 

It hadn’t surprised him that they were so welcoming. But it did surprise Hongbin how quickly he accepted it. 

A hand falls heavily on his shoulder. “Are you done yet?” Sanghyuk was relatively young but no nonsense when it came to his job. Still, he looked amused at how obviously bored Hongbin was. Sanghyuk used to be stuck dealing with all the manifests all by himself, but now Hongbin was forced to stare at them until his eyes bled.

Hongbin felt slightly annoyed whenever Sanghyuk rubbed it in- which was pretty damn impressive when the judge during his own hearing couldn’t make him give a damn about what they were doing to him. Maybe it was the dread back then, his powerlessness when they sentenced him to a penal colony for a few years, less if he was on his best behavior. He got so good at pretending to be a good little Federation citizen when Sanghyuk and Jaehwan started encouraging him to stop being so boring.

Hongbin sighs as he looks up to the security officer. “As if it’s ever done. Are you taking over?” Sanghyuk nods and there’s barely any small talk before Hongbin is let go.

He cracks his spine. Maybe he can go to the Andorian restaurant, try something new. It didn’t really matter what he did in his free time. It never did. The space station was one of the more recent and advanced ones- besides the usual accommodations and embassies, it also boasted a few fancy restaurants where people really cooked, as well as fancy holosuites and bars that Hongbin could visit they had said, anything to remind him of what it was like to be a regular Federation citizen. 

It makes him want to scoff. 

The bracelet around his ankle is a heavy thing. Not literally- the thin chain of duranium is light and easy to ignore, just as the Starfleet officer had said. But it was heavy enough to keep him locked into this stardome, deep enough in Federation space that Hongbin couldn’t simply disappear. It itches now that he’s reminded of his situation. Again. He swears he can feel it ghosting at his ankles- should’ve been impossible with the socks he had taken minutes to shove between the thin chain and his ankles that morning. Hongbin shakes his ankle distractedly as he wanders the concourse, passing the throng of people and the multicolored greenery that decorated the main area.

Atonement, they had said. A kindness for his wannabe Robin Hood life (well, mostly Robin Hood) but criminal nonetheless. 

Screw their kindness. Hongbin veers off sharply, following an oft treaded path. His earring jingles with how sharp his turn is, its chain flashing in the air. The thought itches at him too. Like a scab, one that Hongbin barely noticed until he did, in which case he had to scratch and pick at it until it was pink and bleeding again. Just picking at the scabs until they slowly healed enough to leave a scar is as good as it’s going to get Hongbin figures. 

Until then, he might as well be drunk doing it.

  
  
  
  
  


Hongbin dreams often. 

Dowonkyong thrums around him again, the ship’s corridors looping around each other in a cat’s cradle. The tunnels criss and cross, looping and weaving until the echoes of his own footsteps double over each other too, as if coming from just around the corner. 

Frantically, Hongbin keeps on running and running. As his feet quicken, so does his heartbeat. There must be an end here somewhere. His recall of his own ship blurs but Hongbin knows that there's a heart in here somewhere. A chamber running in the middle of it, with a bed in the middle of it and the softest red sheets. if only he could find it. Then he can just sit down and breathe. Rest. 

Fuck, if only it wasn’t so hard. He’s so confused. His fingers keep slipping against the metal of the hallways, cold and dead. Even as he stumbles, he keeps going. Home, he thinks, he needs to go home. 

It circles and circles, and he’s shivering. Has he always been this lost? He’s not sure he remembers much else besides looking for the right door. And oh- it’s the one right there. Like it was there all along. 

The doors slide open, and here it is warm and bright and full and Hongbin lets out a sigh of relief as he pushes forward into the softness. A small smile creeps up his face as Hak’yon laughs at him, bells echoing behind it. “Is that you?” Hongbin asks, smiling at the man he can see dancing in and out of gauzy curtains filling the room and circling closer. 

He can barely hear Hak’yon- but each flash of him is somehow crystal clear. The curve of his eye aas he smiles at him, or the way his hands look when they push him down. The specific way Hak’yon would whisper in his ear before their minds could meld. _K’diwa,_ Hongbin hears, not the sound but the suggestion of it, the sharpness of _k’d_ before that honeylike voice melts into the rest of the word. Hongbin shudders in Hak’yon’s arms. Ready, yearning, his body ready to finally come undone.

Yet each time, Hongbin only could catch flashes of his lover. Foreplay almost, except Hongbin can’t feel any of it, can’t feel the warmth of his calloused hands. Hongbin cries out, trying to reach for Hak'yon, except his hands only grab empty air. An empty seduction in the hazy memory of their room as Hak'yon danced away before Hongbin could touch him back.

Hak’yon looked so beautiful doing it, even when he never looked back. And all Hongbin could do was try to follow, pushing past the curtains that appeared between them.

Pushing it apart and apart, an endless stream until Hongbin is lost. Until Hak'yon is gone, and he’s calling again, and _why didn’t Hak’yon answer-_

  
  


Hongbin dreams often. He forgets them when he wakes up but he knows they must’ve happened because when he looks in the mirror, there are still tear tracks running down his cheeks.

  
  
  
  
  


“You can’t keep doing this Hongbin,” Taekun sighs as he slides into Hongbin’s booth, trying to sound stern and disapproving. He’s out of his uniform too, the Denobulan dressed instead in that shirtless suit with an eye searing pattern. Horrible. Though Hongbin guesses it’s not any worse than his bright pink hair. Hongbin knows it isn’t native to Denobulans, despite what Jaehwan and Sanghyuk had tried to make him think. That combined with the way Taekun reaches over to swipe Hongbin’s drink to take a sip, despite Hongbin’s halfhearted complaints, made it difficult to take him awfully seriously. Hongbin knew about his wine dates with… he’s not even sure who, just that there were a lot of them and he got notoriously clingy during those dates.

“Drinking is bad for you,” Taekun says seriously as he takes a big sip, without even knowing what’s inside. At least, Hongbin is fairly certain that he doesn’t from the face Taekun makes.

“Okay, thanks, can I have my drink back then?” Hongbin says acerbically as Taekwoon grimaces at the strange thickness of the kanar. The Starfleet officer pushes the glass back, though he ends up pouring his own after stealing a glass from the table next to them. Hongbin snickers as he nurses it again. Taekun squints his eyes at the odd drink, but Hongbin guesses he must like it enough to take another sip.

The taste had taken Hongbin some time to get used to. He had ended up developing a taste for it after taking over a few shipments of overpriced kanar- he and Hak’yon had sold most of it but kept a few cases once Hak’yon realized what they had. Hak’yon had been over the moon at their cache and had looked at Hongbin in betrayal when he confessed that he had never tried it before.

Hongbin had hated it at first, perfectly happy to settle for the alcohol that their little replicator made. Hak’yon had insisted that a real drink, and not one from a replicator, was _different, Hongbin, can’t taste it?_ The other had refused to accept that as far as Hongbin was concerned, it all tasted the same to him. 

Hak'yon had looked at him with those sparkling eyes as he urged Hongbin to just try a sip. And when Hongbin resolutely stuck to his synthale, Hak'yon rolled his eyes at him. He finally quieted even as he looked at him with exasperation (over alcohol!), much to Hongbin’s relief.

It didn’t last long. “Come on, Hongbin,” Hak’yon urged before he takes a large swig of the kanar. Hongbin barely has time to raise a token protest before Hak’yon leans to hold him firmly by the neck. Hongbin melts as Hak'yon kisses him, his mouth tasting of coppery sweetness and the hybrid’s impishness leaking into Hongbin’s thoughts. 

He was the one who had pulled back, Hongbin remembers now, wide eyed and feeling strangely hot as Hak'yon had licked the remnants of the neon blue liquid from his lips. The rest of the memory is blurred by time and intoxication. He can’t quite remember what Hak'yon was wearing, or why they were even drinking in the first place. But the unapologetically teasing way Hak'yon had licked the liquid from his own lips then had been seared into his consciousness. As was the way Hak'yon’s touch telepathy often betrayed him. Vulcans were, supposedly, adepts at controlling their touch telepathy. But then again, Vulcans weren’t supposed to be drunk and clingy like Hak’yon either, so how was Hongbin to know what was normal for Vulcans. Maybe it was because Hak’yon was half Klingon as well as Vulcan, or maybe Hak'yon just didn’t care to shield his thoughts from Hongbin but- Hongbin swallows. 

_One of the highest forms of intimacy_ , Hak’yon had called it after he explained how Vulcans kissed and why he was so touchy, but very carefully so. As calm as the explanation was, Hak’yon had been just as nervous as Hongbin when they first shared thoughts, even if he hid it better. Hongbin remembers how Hak’yon had shied away when he had first prodded. It ached then, and it aches now.

Next to him, Taekwoon is still rambling on. Hongbin doesn’t know what about- something about Jaehwan getting in the way of his Hyuk clinging time. Hongbin really doesn’t care and he especially doesn’t care right now. Four drinks in and all Hongbin could think about was the way Hak'yon’s thoughts- no, _everything_ about Hak’yon had been seared into him. 

The thrill that ran through Hak'yon when he just barely ducks a blade, or the way Hak'yon’s smile had come alive so easily with him. Unthinkingly, Hongbin runs a hand over his temples, right where Hak'yon’s hands- warm, blunt but graceful, and sure when it had reached for him. As they often do, his hands slide towards his d’ja pagh, his fingers tangling in the baakonite chain that hung between the two parts of the earring.

“Hongbin!” Taekun whined as he clung to Hongbin with his whole body. The Denobulan buries his head into Hongbin’s neck, a long, too lanky leg thrown over Hongbin’s lap. His other hand almost tangles in the chain of his earring. Panicked for a moment, he pushes Taekun before the other could touch it. 

“What the- the hell’s wrong with you?” Hongbin whines, his words just as slurred as Taekun just lolls onto Hongbin’s other shoulder, refusing to give up his prey. “You’re so nice for a criminal, why can’t Hyukkie be as nice to me?” the other whined as Hongbin tries to get up. Hongbin grunts at the obvious lie- him, Jaehwan, Wonshik and Sanghyuk were all too used to the older antics. They were all mean to each other, that’s how they communicated. 

They’re both drunk and tangled up- heads turn as Hongbin manages to knock the entire bottle and his glass while trying to get out with a koala stuck to him. “I’m legally required to be nice,” Hongbin grumbles as he shoots the squinting bartender a pleading glance.

Really, they’re both lucky that the bartender knows them well enough to lets them pass, though Hongbin is going to get an earful from Wonshik if he doesn’t pay them back soon. He sighs as they stumble out, Taekun still trying to touch his earring. Hongbin has to drag the both of them to their quarters, or wherever the Starfleet types sleep, before he just drops the Denobulan on some bench. 

Hongbin wishes it was annoying. But after a few near falls, Taekun finally stands up properly, or close enough to it. As they slowly walk through the promenade, Taekun keeps his arms entangled in Hongbin’s as he chatters away in his soft voice, his Standard elongating and turning airy from alcohol as the night turns deeper. 

Hongbin is surprised how little he hates it. He talks to Taekun, even laughing a little whenever the other says something ridiculous. He’s nice. They’re all nice. Hongbin had been prepared to hate it, to be angry but most of the people he had to be around were surprisingly open.

“You’re thinking too much again,” Taekun complains suddenly, his voice petulant but also soft with concern as he tugs at Hongbin’s top. They’re nearly the same height, but with the way Taekun curls over Hongbin’s shoulders, he looks shorter. Poutier. Hongbin sighs again. “I’m supposed to be thinking for the both of us,” he snipes. “Blame the kanar,” he says, before drunkenly repeating _kanar, kanar_ , giggling a bit as it rolls off his tongue. 

It’s fun to say. Reminds Hongbin of the way it sounded like a purr of Hak'yon’s tongue. He did it on purpose, Hongbin was pretty sure. The hybrid had sounded nothing like that when he was talking to their buyers. It’d be nice to hear again- his heart squeezes painfully as he remembers the particular way it rolls of Hak’yon’s tongue. His heart squeezes again- the memory is well worn, and the wear is starting to show as Hongbin tries to cling to the precise sound of Hak'yon’s exhale and the small quirk of his lips whenever he said it.

Hongbin sighs and, of course, Taekun notices. For all that the other likes to play the giggling and clingy old man when drunk, he couldn’t hide his tendency towards “relentlessly caring” and “stupidly sentimental”. Taekun tugs at Hongbin’s hair to grab his attention. “See? You’ll be why we fall,” he scolds drunkenly. And of course, Hongbin rolls his eyes to that, another sharp answer on his tongue, ready to be pouted at.

Hongbin’s chest aches but-

It’s bearable as their bickering starts again. By the time they get back to his room, they’re a mess but Hongbin is rolling his eyes good naturedly and Taekun is giggling to himself. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Work, work, work. Hongbin grumbles to himself as he swipes through the records. It wasn’t quite supposed to be his shift yet but Jaehwan, Wonshik’s yeoman, had called him up because he needed to cover someone else’s shift. The Romulan was his usual chatty self, which was strange as Jaehwan usually tried to stay focused on his duties whenever it was official. The chattering was usually saved for his off-time or when the Romulan pretended he wasn’t hanging around to keep an eye around for Wonshik. Hongbin tried to complain but between the _‘are you even doing anything important right now?’_ and _‘why aren’t you listening to me? You don’t respect me?’_ Hongbin gives up his protests. 

Hongbin’s pretty sure Jaehwan just hopes if he talks for loud enough and long enough, Hongbin will just listen. It’s been working pretty well. 

At least he can probably guilt Jaehwan into buying him dinner, Hongbin figures. He always knew all the little hole in the walls and its owners, and Jaehwan showed no hesitation in dragging him with. His thoughts are mostly occupied with examing the logs onscreen and what little else remains is already trying to figure out what kind of food he can force out of Jaehwan. He almost misses the beep of his personal PADD. 

Hongbin picks it up, skimming for the notification before nearly dropping it, his eyes wide open. 

His PADD isn’t actively being surveilled, but Hongbin knows Starfleet put in their version of parental controls. No access to possibly shady (a.k.a. useful) functions and a fancy whitelist that meant that there was no way for him to communicate with non-base residents, which was a lot more stringent when he realized how well secured the base was. 

And yet there it was. The sender’s name was just a jumbled mash of Andorii, Standard and Klingon letters and the message-

_K’diwa, did you miss me?_  


Only one person had called him that. With trembling hands, he picks the PADD back up, rereading the message again as he waited for it to disappear. 

It didn’t. Instead another one appears. 

_I’m sorry it took me so long just to reach you again. Do you still think of me, Hongbin? I don’t mind if you’ve moved on. Just tell me if you delete this._  


Did he think of him. Hongbin wants to laugh, hysteria welling in his throat as he runs his fingers over the screen. How could he not? Hongbin still wore the earring Hak’yon had gifted him. 

_I’m here. Don’t get caught messaging me, you idiot._

  
  


He hesitates for a moment, as he hover over his next words. He’s never been good with words or as forthright as Hak’yon. But after nearly two years apart, the words he wanted to say often bubbled up in him. There’s a wellspring of words that could never leave his mouth, that he knows that Hak’yon would know if he actually saw Hongbin- his eyes, his mind. 

  
  


And I don’t miss you

  


liar <3

  
  


He waits. 

Hongbin doesn’t even know what for. It’s an even toss-up between Hak’yon messaging him his usual paragraphs or Starfleet busting into his room for breaking the rules of his parole. He inhales shakily, blinking rapidly. 

Work. He’s supposed to still be working. Mechanically, he puts his PADD down as he continues reading through the transcripts. It’s not very productive- Hongbin keeps glancing at his PADD furtively, his neck hot as he imagines the gaze of the security cameras. 

The two of them had been unlucky. Their ship, Dowonkyong, had been hit by photon torpedos. The shielding faltered, and their hull had creaked and groaned as they were thrown out of their seats. As Hongbin helped Hak’yon up, he didn’t need to check his station. The ship wouldn’t last in space with that near hull breach, much less warp space. In a sector crawling not just with Starfleet but pirates and criminals, so much worse than him and Hak’yon, Hongbin could feel anxiety start to churn in him. They needed to leave. Immediately. But only if they could get repairs. 

Hongbin had been against splitting up from the start. 

“It’s just the two of us Hak’yon,” Hongbin argued, as the other used their dermal regenerator on his still sluggishly bleeding arm. “If one of us gets caught-” Hak’yon shakes his head, cutting him off. “If we have to go planetside and find dilithium before finding someone who can repair a dentarium hull with ionized interlinks, there’s a good chance we won’t make it,” Hak’yon says bluntly. His hands are as steady as before, but Hongbin can see the way he’s clenched his jaw. Both of them can feel time running out- the time where a bunch of ships could launch arms at each other with little repercussions in this part of the Gamma Quadrant has started to pass as more people settled in this part of space. 

Hongbin’s lips thin. He doesn’t like it. He very much does not like it. Though the two of them were partners, in both senses of the word, there was a reason why Hongbin often deferred to Hak’yon. It wasn’t just about age or experience. It was about trust. It was knowing that there was no way of knowing what lay at the end of crossroads but understanding that a choice had to be made anyway. Hongbin’s worries are hardly quashed. But, Hak’yon is right. Every second of delay was more time for either Starfleet or, worse, the Breen Confederacy to catch up. His forehead furrows as he thinks over their choices as Hak’yon watches him think. Hak’yon gives him a little time to stew as he quietly packs away the kit.

“Fine,” Hongbin says at last. 

Hak’yon had nodded, Hongbin remembers. Kissed him at the corner of the mouth before touching his fingertips to Hongbin’s, their minds brushing together. It was how Vulcans kissed, Hak’yon had explained long ago, because touch was an intimate thing in a race of touch telepaths. Reassurance, confidence, and affection, always affection, sang through their bond as Hak’yon’s hands trembled. This time it was Hongbin’s turn to ground him as he leans forward to kiss Hak’yon properly, their hands still joined as he moves his mouth against Hak’yon’s. 

Hak’yon wrapped a hand around the back of Hongbin’s, pressing them closer. Hongbin licks into Hak’yon’s mouth and the other makes a soft noise of surprise that always sends a thrum of delight through Hongbin.

It was muted this time, and their kiss is messy and a little desperate before Hak’yon finally pushes him away. Even as their lips part, Hak’yon doesn’t let go of his neck until Hongbin drops his hand, ending their mental connection. “It’ll be fine,” Hongbin murmurs hoarsely. “That’s what I said,” Hak’yon says automatically. He drops his hand from Hongbin’s neck with obvious reluctance and Hongbin watches as his lover pieced himself back together. 

The sharp-eyed captain was back. 

Hongbin knows that Hak’yon regrets it now but he doesn’t. The planetside marketplace was overrun with Starfleet in hours, Hongbin taken in for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Even as he was manhandled and dragged into a shuttle with the rest of the market, all he focused on was Hak’yon. Hak’yon was free and on a ship that no doubt heard about Starfleet as soon as their ships had dropped out of warp. It was the only silver lining as panic had suffused him. And besides, without his ship, all Starfleet could give him was a slap on the wrist. Much better than the pointed sentences other parties got, which were still better than those caught with Breen contraband and were promptly handed over to the Confederacy, who wasted no time in letting them rot. So there’s that. 

And at least he had that last kiss. One last moment of intimacy to nurse him through the trial and the short messages from Hak’yon that had to be whispered or deleted as soon as they were read.

Hak’yon could’ve done more, risked more for something more substantial that a couple of messages sneaked through his lawyer. Hongbin didn’t want it. Not if it meant that Hak’yon was in any kind of danger. Hongbin had been forced to spend a year in a penal colony already and as shitty as it was, it ached to imagine Hak’yon stuck inside those same walls. 

He had been alone there, lost and without anyone next to him for the first time in years. It was hard enough to live in his absence, Prophets forbid he set himself up for more pain as the months passed and no one came. 

It hurt to hope. 

That was the selfish reason all along. Hak’yon had promised they’d meet again and after too long, Hongbin had buried those words away. It didn’t work. Hongbin squeezes his eyes shut, trying to hold back the sudden wetness welling up. After months of silence from Hak’yon, it hurt Hongbin to keep waiting for him. To go to bed every night after spending all day waiting for anything at all _._

People have broken up over less after all. Even if a glance of his own earring, the one Hak’yon had just gifted him, hurt him everytime. 

Hongbin had kept his old one from his parents on him as a lucky charm, as he always does. It had been tucked into one of his pouches when Starfleet had carted him away. Starfleet was real progressive at least, and after a lot of begging and a quick scan, they had reluctantly let him wear one of them. The other would have to be locked and stored with whatever he had in his bag that wasn’t illegal. The two d’ja paghs had his name and his family’s symbol. One of them didn’t feel like heartbreak. 

But only one of them was given to him by Hak’yon. 

Now that a glance of his own reflection stopped hurting, and Hongbin thinks he can get over all of this, of course Hak’yon finds him. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to tell Hak’yon to fuck off so that they could live without the burden of each other, but of course Hak’yon had seen through him. 

Hongbin would’ve ignored him if he had learned to stopped caring. 

  
  
  


_I always keep my promises, you know. I’m sorry it took me this long. I miss you. I miss you so much._  


_I’ve gotten rusty at kal-toh. My father would be ashamed to know that I’ve gotten worse since we’ve stopped playing, k’diwa._

_I can’t say much, this should be secure but better safe than sorry. I have a plan, a good one obviously, nothing illegal. Just tell me if you want me still._

_Hongbin, are you there?_

_Does this still work_

_Hongbin?_

_Please_

  
  
  


Hongbin stares at the stars. There’s a small viewport running through the walls of his room- one side showed the interior of the starbase while the other faced the outside, out into space. It was calming sometimes. Familiar. Starfleet really had given him a pretty nice place to live. 

It wasn’t very nice now. He’s barely left his room besides to work, and while Taekun had seemed concerned when they crossed paths, no one else seemed to notice. By the Prophet’s tears, he hadn’t even seen jaehwan or Wonshik the past week despite supposedly reporting to them and Sanghyuk seemed content to see him when their shifts switched off. Hongbin couldn’t bring it in himself to worry about it, or much else. 

His room was a mess. Maybe not by everyone’s standards but by his own. His bed was unmade, clothes still on the chair where he dropped them. Hongbin stares vacantly out his window with a half empty glass of synthale. 

Hongbin had hoped it would help. But he was barely past tipsy when he couldn’t stomach anymore as his PADD beeped again. 

_It’s dangerous_ Hongbin wanted to respond. _I hate you. I’m happy here._ Or ignore him altogether better yet. 

It sounded so easy. It would be the right thing to do, he thinks. Hongbin would gladly live here if it meant that he couldn’t cast a shadow over Hak’yon. He had already fallen from grace, what was the point in dragging Hak’yon into it?

He stares at his PADD. It’s so easy. Just delete the chat message. But his hands won’t move even as the words blur together and- 

Oh. Hongbin laughs out loud, the sound thin and rusty. He was a liar through and through. Tears splatter on his PADD, blurring the words together. 

Hope was a wretched thing. All it took was a week for it to latch on to him. “Damn it, Hak’yon,” Hongbin whispers. He had started to move on. But it was hard, and when had Hak’yon ever made anything easy?

(Besides loving him.)

He throws back the rest of his drink and relishes in the artificial warmth. It hurt so much, and Hongbin couldn’t tell if it was a good or bad thing. 

Why?

  


_Why what?_  


  


_itss been 2 years. Can’t you mve on?_

There’s no response. 

Hongbin can’t look at the screen as it goes dark and silent. He stands up in a frenzy, moving to drop the glass in the sink without looking and pacing the room in sharp strides. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Hongbin whispers to himself as he runs his hands through his hair. His PADD beeps again and Hongbin refuses to look in its direction.

Why? Why did he bother? It was always like this. Hak’yon has always been too stubborn by half, so of course Hongbin would have to be the voice of reason again. For the last time, he thinks with a lump in his throat. His ‘parole’ would end in three years. He was lucky enough to get out of the penal colony after barely a year there and landing a nice job for his ‘community service’. That would be enough for him. A new life wasn’t so bad a thing. Cut all his old ties.

His PADD beeps again, making him flinch. Hongbin massages his hands, trying to calm their trembling. Too much could change in five years that even if they could, Hongbin didn’t see what would be left of them. Both of them were unused to the rules of Federation space but Hak’yon in particular was disdainful of the Federation and its laws and the way people side-eyed him so often. He had built a life for himself before Hongbin even came along. He couldn’t ask for Hak’yon to give up his freedom. For everything they, no, that he built. Hongbin was just fortunate enough to be able to share some of it with him.

It would be enough. Hongbin doesn’t think he could survive it if he nursed his hope again, only for Hak’yon to fall further out of reach. Get carted off and find a reason to resent Hongbin. Or tell him _no_ , that Hak’yon couldn’t do it for him. Memories were safer. 

Another beep interrupts his thoughts. Why did Hak’yon make it so hard? Hongbin thinks in despair. He had to see, he had to know what Hak’yon said.

  
_Because I love you._  


_I promised you, remember?_

_I’ll try to move on if it will make you happy. But I don’t want to. I miss how much brighter everything was when we were together._

_This time, I’ll do whatever Binnie wants. qaSaHchu’_

_Taluhk nash-veh k’dular, k’diwa_

_Please, trust me one last time_. 

He shouldn’t have looked. Hongbin angrily wipes away the tears that managed to escape as he falls on the couch. But he can’t stop from rereading those words, his heart racing.

Love. It had been so long since he’s let himself think of Hak’yon saying it. Of all the times he whispered it against his lips, said it with a cheesy grin or in their bed, when Hak’yon is rubbing his forehead against Hongbin’s neck and it slips out, the words a mess but the intent of it clear as Hak’yon’s consciousness had sleepily reached for Hongbin. Between them, they spoke four languages fluently, and after years in each other’s pocket, they both picked up a lot of things from each other. 

K’diwa, ashayam, sweetheart.   
_qaSaHchu'_ I care for you, wholly.  


_Taluhk nash-veh k’dular._  
I love you.

How else was Hongbin supposed to respond? He drops onto his couch, knees weak. Hak’yon always knew how to get him. 

Or maybe Hongbin was just an idiot. An idiot who knew Hak’yon, or hoped he did and knows that Hak’yon meant every word with a ferocity even his eloquence couldn’t convey. Someone who knew what it felt to be loved by Hak’yon and love in return. 

He sniffles, rubbing at his nose ridges as his tears keep falling. Still, his chest ached but this time, it didn’t feel like an abyss in his chest. 

Maybe it was okay to hope. 

_i trust you_

_:) <3 _

__

_

_Soon sweetheart_

_

  
  
  


__

What follows is the worst month of Hongbin’s life. 

__

Hak’yon had warned that he can’t keep talking to him and Hongbin had readily accepted to it. But he finds himself with his PADD at all times, fiddling with it and always on edge. 

__

“Bored already?” Sanghyuk asks from his station, eyes glued to his security monitors. Hongbin startles, nearly fumbling with his readouts. His mind blanks for a moment- bored? Why would he be bored, he's being totally normal. Right?

__

“As usual,” he answerd, a beat too late. He sounded like the computer, Hongbin thinks, wincing. 

__

Sanghyuk makes a little _ahhh_ noise as the computer beeps as it flips through different readings. “You’re lucky Jaehwan is too busy to make his usual rounds,” he says, smirking a bit as he glances at Hongbin. 

__

Hongbin laughs weakly. “He’s a pushover anyway,” he says, shrugging. It was mostly true- the Romulan could be bullheaded if he wanted to be, but that wasn’t often. Hongbin would think that it was all strategic or apathy, but truthfully, Jaehwan was just way too sweet. Not a word Hongbin thought he’d ever use to describe a Romulan, but Jaehwan had a way of subverting expectations. 

__

Sanghyuk was the same too- he was technically the most junior of them and most of Hongbin’s personal knowledge about joined Trill was from one end of a long, shitty intergalactic gossip chain. They were supposed to be wiser once they were given their symbiont, though Hongbin had thought it meant something like mature. Not like Sanghyuk, who made confused faces whenever someone called him handsome or strong and seemed to revel in causing needless chaos. It was easy to forget he was supposed to have decades old wisdom until he looked at Hongbin with those sharp, probing eyes. 

__

There was always a precision to the words he chose. Purposeful, even if sometimes the purpose was ‘annoying Wonshik’ or ‘spiting the commodore’.

__

“Sure,” Sanghyuk says, skeptically, glancing at the way Hongbin is still jiggling his thigh. Hongbin doesn’t know how to respond, but thankfully the Prophets must have been looking out for him because he hears the doors open.

__

“- and this is where you can check our probing equipment and the readouts before they’re processed,” Hongbin hears Wonshik explain as they step through. He spins around, ready to check out the new Starfleet babysitter he needs to meet and-

__

It’s not Starfleet. 

__

Hak’yon beams at him, in the same casually handsome look he used to maintain but cleaner, sharper. He looked...unreal. Hongbin doesn’t even realize he’s standing, knocking into his chair and startling Wonshik, as he stares wide eyed at Hak’yon. 

__

There’s a long moment when Wonshik keeps talking, not looking at them as he pokes at the monitors around the room. Jaehwan finally looks up from the PADD, eyes wide and sparkling as he looks at the two of them. Wonshik finally realizes something’s wrong when Jaehwan tugs Wonshik out of the room. The human looked like he finally connected the dots when the yeoman manages to pull him out, Sanghyuk scampering behind them, mentioning something about another security room. Hongbin waves them goodbye after the doors swoosh shut behind them. 

__

Hongbin steps forward, mouth open. But there’s a tightness in his throat that’s choking his words, and Hongbin doesn’t even know what to think right now. 

__

Hak’yon looks good. Maybe even better than before, his graceful limbs filling out the emerald on emerald jacket, his shoulder broad in the sharp cut of his jacket. Even his hair was carefully brushed to fall over his forehead. He looked like the warmth that was filling his chest, the ringing in his ears. 

__

It’s Hak’yon who reaches for him. The other crosses the distance easily, and their bodies still slot together so easily, Hak’yon’s hand carefully falling to Hongbin’s waist and Hongbin’s around Hak’yon’s neck. It’s only when Hongbin is held that Hak’yon notices something, making a small unhappy noise as he wraps his hand around Hongbin’s clothed wrist. Oh. Hongbin hadn't realize how hard his hands must have been shaking until Hak’yon held it. His touch did little to calm it. The opposite, really. his touch was searing. Too hot when Hongbin had forgotten what it felt like to be nearly smothered in warmth, because that was what it meant to be with Hak’yon. Who was real. Right here, in front of him. He can’t quite find the words as he looks at Hak’yon with wide eyes, taking back in every detail he forgot and those he used to be so familiar with. The slope of his nose, the curve of his cheek, and the way the ridges on his forehead peeked through his dark hair. And more than that too- the bags under Hak’yon seemed deeper, and there’s a new scar on the shell of his ear. Signs of the time they were apart. 

__

Hongbin had been so engrossed in himself that it’s only now that he sees the fine lines in Hak’yon’s brow. The way it’s obvious that the other is holding himself back from doing anything more than holding Hongbin over their clothes, just in case it was too much or Hongbin didn’t want it. It’s a smart choice. Hongbin knows that. Smart, but stupid because he didn’t give a damn. Everything was too little and too much. What was a little more?

__

“What took you so long? Huh?” Hongbin finally croaks out, going for funny but falling somewhere closer to teary. Hak’yon breaks, laughing and eyes crinkling and making Hongbin’s heart beat in doubletime.

__

“This is the thanks I get?” Hak’yon says, falteringly as he tries to hold back his tears. Hongbin smiles, tugging Hak’yon forward until their foreheads touch and he’s rewarded by Hak’yon’s trembling breath. They're close enough to kiss, lips and noses brushing against each other and it's so easy for Hongbin to just nudge a little closer. Hak'yon makes a hungry noise when their lips meet. Their kiss is wet, frantic, horrible and perfect all at once. 

__

“Can I..? _K’diwa, you’re teasing me,”_ Hak’yon whines when they part, slipping into Vulcan as his usual annoying clinginess finally kicks in- his arm wraps tighter around Hongbin’s waist and he brazenly rubs his face against Hongbin’s. _Annoying,_ Hongbin thinks, so heavy with emotion that he thinks he could vomit. He had missed the other’s eloquence and devotion and competence, but he had missed the less glamorous bits just as much. Hak’yon’s clinginess, his perfectionism. His insistence on taking a mile when Hongbin was too scared to give more than an inch. “Please,” Hongbin whispers, just loud enough for Hak’yon to hear. 

__

It’s a little clumsy. Hak’yon’s fingers fumbled as they searched for the right spot over Hongbin’s temples, no longer used to the action. But it doesn’t take long before two fingertips are lined up on each of Hongbin’s temples. 

__

Anxiety churns in his gut. It took him so long to agree to this the first time. He shouldn’t be rushing to such intimacy now but it’s too late now. He agreed to it, and inside, Hongbin _wants_ it. He watches Hak’yon close his eyes as Hongbin starts feeling the hybrid’s thoughts start flitting through his. 

__

“My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts,” Hak’yon whispers. 

__

  
  
  
  
  


__

Hak’yon’s mind feels like summertime. The kind Hongbin is used to- hot and crowded, where everything is openly and carefully displayed as to hide all the back alleys inbetween but the air is so fresh and bright that you didn’t mind at all. 

__

Hongbin’s is an old palace, labyrinthine and imposing had it not been for time wearing away at the walls until light and flora can seep in. It’s easy to get lost inside, Hak’yon often stopping to marvel at rooms or twisting vines but there’s a certain logic to its hallways once you’ve gotten used to it. 

__

When together, their mindscapes float over each other’s, like a dream. Separate but permeable. As Hongbin wanders stalls, he can feel Hak’yon look through his hallways. 

__

Touching without touching. Hongbin can feel Hak’yon’s affection shining brightly on him. It’s sweet, but not as much as the joy and relief singing from Hak’yon as he sinks into the familiar walls of Hongbin’s. It feels like coming home, and as soon Hongbin thinks it, he feels Hak’yon’s agreement entwining with it. _Parted from me and never parted,_ echoes from Hak’yon’s mind. _Never and always touching and touched_ Hongbin completes, the memory coming to him unbidden. As it always did, his memories hitting him like a landslide, only know he can feel Hak’yon with him and keeping him standing. Just as overwhelmed, Hongbin knows, the other’s relief and grief and unrelenting devotion leaving its owner in disarray until it could ground itself in someone. 

__

_I missed you,_ Hongbin feels, memories of empty rooms and glittering bottles forming his words. _I’m sorry,_ he says, as he feels Hak’yon finds the doubt in him, the way he didn’t do enough to ignore the way affection from someone else had soothed some of the hurt. 

__

_Don’t apologize_ Hak’yon thinks until Hongbin nudges him and he unfurls, pressing into Hongbin the regret, the fear. The hope, that Hongbin was at least safe, that he was happy even if meant he was gone. The mindless anger and sorrow that always followed those, not anyone but at the whole galaxy because he ached for Hongbin, just as much as Hongbin ached for him. 

__

_I love you_. 

__

It bursts out of Hongbin. Not the love, because Hak’yon could read him before Hongbin even realized what he said, but the intent. He wanted Hak’yon to know it, to remember it and Hak’yon feels like he’s drowning in happiness. They bask in the warmth of each other, letting the memories of the past two years leaking through without picking anything out, a soft undulating wave that keeps them afloat. 

__

It’s Hak’yon who slowly picks them apart, separating the thread of their thoughts until they’re two again. At some point, his body must’ve given up, because Hongbin comes out of it seated on the console, Hak’yon swaying against him. Without thinking, Hongbin steadies him with his hands on Hak’yon’s waist. He almost lets go when he realizes if Hak’yon didn’t lean to it. Hongbin settles for holding on to him then, trying to ignore the thudding in his chest.

__

“Are you alright?” Hak’yon asks, resting his elbows on Hongbin’s broad shoulders. Broader now, he realizes with fond heartache as Hongbin hums in agreement. Hak’yon lets a sigh rattle out of him. 

__

Despite asking, he still feels the need to check, to see that Hongbin is actually fine. He starts stroking Hongbin’s hair, despite Hongbin’s amused huff. As he runs his hands through the mess of it, Hak’yon brushes against the d’ja pagh adorning his ear. His hand stops before cupping Hongbin’s cheek, his fingertips rubbing the earring. Hak’yon had thought that it might’ve been gone. For most of their time together, Hongbin had worn the one his parents had given him, as custom in Bajor. It was supposed to be a sign of their people’s faith, but Hak’yon knew it was just as important as a symbol that he was Bajoran too, his family’s symbol and his people’s history engraved into metal. He wasn’t sure if his gift was important enough to matter more than that after so long apart. “I wasn’t sure if you’d still have it,” Hak’yon says, feeling foolish as soon as he says it. 

__

The raised eyebrow from the Bajoran made sure of it, but the way Hongbin leans into Hak’yon’s hand kills him, through and through. “Stop smiling like that,” Hongbin grumbles, his cheeks red. Hongbin worries at his lip, avoiding Hak’yon’s gaze as he struggles to get the words out. 

__

“I couldn’t get rid of it,” Hongbin admits. “I was hoping that…” he says, trailing off. 

__

Hak’yon shivers- Hongbin was used to Hak’yon’s telepathy but he was no telepath himself. It was easy to shield his thoughts from Hongbin when they touched like this, but Hongbin’s shields were nowhere as strong. Embarrassment and old aches spillover along with a word, a memory. Hak’yon’s promise when he had gifted the d’ja pagh to Hongbin and helped him wear the earring for the first time. 

__

“I want to. I told you I keep my promises,” Hak’yon answers softly. “Maybe not now,” Hak’yon admits, too aware of the years that hung heavy between them. “But when I promised to marry you, I meant it. I still do, k’diwa.”

__

Hongbin looks up to him, lips quivering as he blinks rapidly. Hak’yon can’t help the small giggle when he sees how hard Hongbin tried to keep it in. Hongbin glares up at him with watery eyes before smacking Hak’yon in the chest. “Good,” he says. He wants to joke about wearing it for so long but the ache is still too fresh for him to say it. He didn’t want to say it now, while joy felt like a tenuous thing. Hak’yon smiles, his thumb wiping at the wetness that’s trying to gather in Hongbin’s eye. 

__

“Good,” he echoes as he leans down to kiss Hongbin.

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the end of the fic proper, whats next is just a short coda / light hearted epilogue
> 
> thank you for sticking with me <3


	2. coda

All four of them stare at the monitor. Does anybody care that Sanghyuk has an actual job? One he couldn’t do because apparently Hongbin had a secret boyfriend and kicked them out by with that embarassing stuny. And now his two bosses would rather watch Hongbin and the Klingon? Maybe not a Klingon, unless Sanghyuk really didn’t know Klingon mating rituals as well as he thought he did. 

Which wasn’t that well, but he knew it involved a lot more dramatic poetry and sword waving. 

“So-” he starts before being interrupted by Taekun drooping on his head like a gigantic Earth cat. “Why am I here,” the Denobulan whines, complaining after Jaehwan had dragged him in when they ran nto the corner and because of how hard Sanghyuk pinches him for interrupting him again. “Aren’t you worried about our Hongbin? What if the boyfriend breaks his heart?” Jaehwan asks, indignant and squinting at Taekun. Lying through his teeth too, not Taekun cares as continued looking unrepentant as he sulkily rubs at his ribs, still sore from Sanghyuk's painful fingers.

Taekun’s face was a little red. Denobulans tended to get puffy when they were in shock, or in Taekun’s case, deeply embarrassed after realizing you were flirting with someone with a boyfriend. He wasn’t so much heartbroken as harassed with the way the three of them had snickered at him after Taekun's surprised squeak when the two started cuddling (or maybe even kissing) on screen. Sanghyuk doesn’t know about the other two, but he definitely remembers Taekun wondering out loud how alright Hongbin was with Denobulans’ open approach to romance or if the others liked him. Based of Jaehwan and Wonshik’s reaction, they remembered too. 

“Enough! Computer, turn it off please,” Wonshik exclaimed. 

He turns to Sanghuk and Jaehwan, the Trill and Romulan giving him twin looks of innocence. “Did you know that this was gonna happen,” he cries out, slumping over the console in spectacularly unprofessional fashion. Sanghyuk and Jaehwan glance at each other as Wonshik grumbles quietly. 

Sanghyuk spent the most time with Hongbin, even hanging out in his quarters and when Hongbin had offhandedly explained why he had two different earrings, the pieces fell into place very quickly. Jaehwan was just nosy and while honest to goodness, he hung out with Hongbin because he was worried about the Bajoran, it wasn’t his fault that people kept talking to him! It was the burden of being as cute as he was. 

“It was pretty obvious Wonshikie,” Jaehwan says, sniffing. “You two were just blind,” Sanghyuk says with a smug smile as Taekun makes a wordless noise of outrage amd star smacking Sanghyuk in annoyance. 

Wonshik grumbles to himself as Sanghyuk starts whacking the Denobulan back, the two of them acting like children and not like the respectable officers Wonshik used to think they were. Weren’t the joined Trill supposed to be older and wiser when they got their symbiont? Sanghyu only used it when he felt like being spiteful it felt like. 

Jaehwan was yelling at them in his auntie voice, his voice rising in pitch and nasality as Taekun wiggled under Sanghyuk’s larger frame. 

Wonshik glumly taps his combadge, and the pin on his chest beeping as tried to reach Hongbin. No answer of course. He didn’t want to check. He may not have spent as much time with Hongbin as the others but he wasn’t blind. His records had mentioned it, that he was caught alone as a buyer- no ship, no crew. Very likely someone who might be looking for someone or being looked for.

At least Wonshik can scratch that out.

It was really...cute actually, Wonshik thinks, sighing happily. The missive from Starfleet Command about it had been a new one. A Klingon-Vulcan hybrid and former black market seller had wanted to ‘turn over a new leaf’ in his starbase in exchange for something Starfleet Command didn’t bother to tell him. It’s pretty obvious what it might be now, he thinks as he taps his badge again to no response.

Wonshik just really hopes they’re not fucking there. He’s been in way too many holosuite programs with Klingon and Vulcan romances- something would definitely break and he really didn’t feel like explaining that to Starfleet.

**Author's Note:**

> aaand thats a wrap, thanks for reading!!! i poured a lot into making this whew, i hope you enjoyed it! maybe one day ill come back to this verse.... there's a lot of smooching here that i haven't written
> 
> [ twitter](twitter.com/gorgxns)


End file.
